


Sensual Politics

by slightlyraspberry



Series: death by folklore [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Kinda, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Season 7 Spoilers, Songfic, gratuitous use of the word partner, j/d endgame :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25931149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyraspberry/pseuds/slightlyraspberry
Summary: And variations thereof.
Relationships: Donna Moss/Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn
Series: death by folklore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091939
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Sensual Politics

**Author's Note:**

> title and subtitles from "cardigan" by taylor swift.

_i. when you are young, they assume you know nothing_

Sam was captivated. Well, really, Josh Lyman was captivating. Josh had been captivating Sam for the past four hours. Out of the handful of young panelists there to talk about careers in campaign staffing, Sam knew immediately that Josh was the one with the most passion, with the most knowledge, the most drive to give his all to the candidate, no matter what. 

It scared Sam a little. He identified more with Diane, the young Columbia law student who looked at campaigning as a stepping stone to a cushy job writing ad copy for the DCCC or a line on the resume she’d undoubtedly send to every law firm in Manhattan. The single-mindedness with which Josh spoke of his work was an unfamiliar prospect to Sam, who had spent his college years relegating his passions to hobbies and building a future out of pre-law requisites. 

And yet. There was something captivating about Josh and his flying hands, the way he spoke over the women and the men too, interrupting the moderating professor as if he was tenured himself. Sam watched him throughout the event, looking at him whenever he had a chance to stop taking notes and really see him. 

He waited by the door, afterward. He waved his friends off and skimmed from a book he should have read two weeks ago, leaning against the hard stone of the building’s exterior, and barely caught Josh as he walked out into the brisk afternoon one only found in late September in New Jersey. 

“Hey,” Sam said, tapping Josh on the shoulder. “You were great on that panel.”

Josh stared at him like he was a stranger, which was a fair reaction. “Who are you?”

“Sam Seaborn. I’m writing my senior thesis on presidential pardons and the effects thereof on down-ballot elections.” Sam stuck his hand out, and Josh hesitantly shook. Not that the handshake was bad—Josh had a confident, strong grip, but he also looked like Sam had just sprouted three heads in front of him. 

“That’s one hell of a specific thesis. You sure you’re a student and not a professor in disguise?” Josh said, still apprehensive.

“I’m going to be a lawyer, not a professor,” Sam said. “But what you said about campaigning—about that being the best way to influence lawmaking—I dunno. You really think that?”

Josh shrugged. “Well, yeah. Decisions are made by those who show up.”

“Harry Truman.”

“Or Woody Allen, depending on who you ask.”

“Care to debate who?” Sam asked. And here he gave Josh a wide smile, a tilt of the head, a glint in his eyes that usually convinced most women and the occasional man to do what Sam wanted. 

Josh looked over his shoulder and put a hand behind his neck, considering. “Uh…” he trailed off. 

“If it helps, I know a great place. Best stuff on tap in town.”

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Josh said, squinting at Sam. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, kind of. The governor’s campaign manager can’t really be caught buying an underage kid a pint.”

“The phrase ‘underage kid’ is redundant,” Sam said. “And I’m almost 23. Parents started me in school late.”

“Alright, smartass. I’ll get a drink with you.” 

Sam smiled, for real this time, not the fake one he gave to get what he wanted. He walked Josh a few blocks down to the bar, where he found them two stools and ordered them both a beer with his parents’ money. 

It wasn’t just Josh’s words that were captivating. Now that Sam saw him up close, he was captivated by Josh’s deep brown eyes, by the curve of his jaw, by the surprisingly muscular forearms below his rolled-up sleeves.

They launched into a debate about the nature of political candidates, of symbolism versus substance, and Sam was only captivated more. Three beers later, they weren’t arguing so much as throwing as many big words as they could at each other. Like a dick measuring contest, but with lexicons. Maybe they were the same thing. It was late, and Sam neither knew nor cared.

Sam found out later, in Josh’s sparsely furnished apartment (“Of course you’re roommates with an RA,” he had said when Sam ruled out his dorm), that Josh’s passion did not just extend to politics but to physical activities. Josh, as it turned out, was just as captivated by Sam as Sam was by him. 

Sam didn’t leave in the morning. He didn’t leave the morning a week later, either, or the two in a row three days after that. Sam probably could have stayed forever.

But he never found out if that was true. Josh left at the dawn of November. He gave Sam his new address and Sam, feeling sentimental, stole a Yale sweatshirt he wouldn’t be caught dead in on campus. He wore it when he slept alone with only his thesis for company.

_ii. a friend to all is a friend to none_

There was really, truly, undeniably, indubitably, too much tension in Josh’s life right then. 

Sam was one problem. Sam and his damning idealism were proving all too capable of getting Josh into bed, which Josh really couldn’t let happen at this point in the campaign. So there was Sam and there was that sexual tension that really existed whenever they saw each other, that crackled in the air in New York City and in Iowan motel rooms.

It was distracting, to say the least. Sam was different than he was when Josh first met him, older and wiser and sometimes more professional than Josh himself, but he had the same self-assured air and good looks that drew Josh to him in the first place, and wasn’t that what politics was all about? Self-assurance and attractiveness? 

So there was tension with Sam, but then, there always was. The tension with Donna was a completely new and unfamiliar problem, one that Josh had no experience dealing with. She was young and green and the innocence in her eyes made them look a shade altogether different from Sam’s, even though most people would agree that they were probably the same.

Donna made him feel like he was walking on a tightrope, made his chest tighten and his legs threaten to go out under him. Sam felt like returning home, returning to the days of endless hope and faith in government.

He slept with Sam and woke up holding him too many times to count, but he didn’t tease him the way he teased Donna like kids on the playground. He bantered with Donna and she gave as good as she got, but he never once took her home. Donna was the one who told him his father died, but Sam was the one who called after the funeral.

Sam was easy to be with. He didn’t ask Josh to define what they were doing, so Josh never did, and that was okay. They had work lunches and casual sex in every motel room in America (and if they traded secrets afterward, that was between them), and it was exactly what Josh needed, companionship and a strong shoulder to lean on.

Josh didn’t know if Donna would be easy to be with like Sam was, but he knew it was sure as hell difficult _not_ to be with her. He thought she’d probably be different than Sam—being with her was an unmapped path that Josh desperately wanted to travel. She was sparkling smiles and starting over, and Josh loved her inclination towards new beginnings. He wanted it for himself.

Sam was the past. Donna was the future. Josh was pretty sure he was in love with both of them.

But it didn’t really matter, because he wasn’t with either of them by election night. Sam broke whatever they were doing off somewhere between Texas and California, citing a need for stability that he said Josh didn’t and never would have (and Josh pretended that didn’t hurt, didn’t make him feel like some teenager broken up with on prom night). 

Josh was in love with two people and neither of them loved him back. Or if they did, it would never work. He just wasn’t—according to Sam—stable.

_iii. I knew you, playing hide-and-seek and giving me your weekends_

Sam didn’t know why he picked it back up. He knew, then, by the time he had a West Wing office, that Josh was never anything but bad for him. Sam chalked his bad decisions up to stress and tried to ignore the way Josh left him in the mornings and slept with Mandy during a period they had agreed to be monogamous because “that’s what people in relationships do, Josh, they commit themselves to each other.”

Josh unconvincingly denied both sleeping with Mandy and agreeing to form some semblance of a relationship. Sam broke it off, attempted a disastrous couple of dates with Mallory, and wound up drinking coffee in Josh’s kitchen a month later. 

The cycle repeated itself as regularly as the moon’s while they were in the White House. Sam would give in to Josh during late nights in his office and swear him off when he inevitably fucked up again, knowing that it wasn’t the last time. Lather, rinse, and repeat. 

Rosslyn was an off-time in their on-again-off-again. Sam was tempted to let Donna pick up Josh’s broken pieces, but he found himself rewrapping Josh’s bandages in his apartment more often than not and suddenly they were on again. When Josh recovered, they kissed in empty parking lots and darkened rooms, and Sam still woke up alone, and the cycle continued.

Sam knew he was finally done with Josh the night he found out about the MS (but that wasn’t the first time he’d told himself that). He wondered if Josh told Donna about the President before him as he left the key he had to Josh’s apartment on his desk. It looked lonely, glinting on the scratched oak. Ah, well. Sam was lonely too.

_iv. you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding_

“Is this a date?” Donna asked. She was wearing a short dress—too short for the winter—and Sam’s coat was hanging loosely around her shoulders. 

Sam looked up at the night sky, admiring the stars through snow-laden branches. “I don’t know,” he said, still looking up. “Is it?” 

Donna was the same height as him in her heels. He felt a small hand come around the back of his neck and turned his face to hers. Donna’s pink mouth was the slightest bit open as she leaned in, and Sam noted that she reapplied her strawberry chapstick sometime in between the restaurant and the sidewalk where she was currently kissing him. He closed his eyes and kissed back, letting himself fly far away into a galaxy where it was just him and Donna and Josh didn’t exist, now or ever. 

Sam woke up with Donna in his arms, surrounded by the scent of strawberries. When she woke up, they went another round before he made her breakfast. It was sickeningly domestic, especially for a first date, but Donna somehow diffused the awkwardness and coerced a promise of at least one more date out of him. 

Two dates turned into three, then four, then Sam and Donna were definitely in something that at least resembled a committed relationship. It was gradual enough that he barely knew what was happening, but six weeks after their first date half of Sam’s wardrobe was in Donna’s closet and she was wearing his too-big sweaters in the mornings and he realized this was his most serious relationship since he was engaged.

It was different than it was with Josh, and not just for the obvious reasons. Donna made commitments and stuck to them. She brought up exclusivity to Sam, not the other way around, and he never suspected that she might be fucking someone else if she asked for a rain check on their standing Friday date. They made each other laugh and talked about politics but not _just_ politics; they talked about movies and childhoods and all the things Josh never had time for. 

Sam liked Donna a lot. He also liked calling Donna his girlfriend.

“My girlfriend and I are going sailing this weekend,” he’d announce to an uninterested barista. “Sorry, my girlfriend’s cat is killing my allergies,” he would tell some congressman after sneezing in a meeting. He loved that he could put a name on what Donna was to him. “Girlfriend” was a very clear-cut term, just the way Sam liked it.

“Stop bossing around my girlfriend, Josh,” he said one day when Josh was being particularly testy to Donna.

“Your girlfriend? Who the hell are you talking about, Sam?”

Sam had meant to tell Josh. He really had. Honestly, he thought Josh would have put it together by now. Judging by Josh’s reaction, though, Sam had clearly overestimated his emotional intelligence.

“Um,” Sam said. Josh looked at Donna, who brought her fingers up to touch her lips nervously. He looked back at Sam, who was looking at Donna and silently begging her to say something. 

“You two…” Josh mumbled. Sam could almost see the lightbulb appearing above his head. “You two are _sleeping together?_ ” 

“Um. Among other things,” Sam said, looking down at the floor. _How nice it would be,_ he thought, _to fall through it._ He heard Josh slam his office door shut, but didn’t look up.

“Josh, can we talk about this alone?” Donna said. She was standing next to Sam, holding an armful of files.

“No! My subordinate is sleeping with my assistant, who is also my subordinate! I’ll damn well talk about workplace conduct with the both of you!”

“Don’t you think the fact that you didn’t notice until now means that our workplace conduct is pretty impenetrable?” Sam pointed out. 

Donna looked at him. “You had to say impenetrable?”

“How long?” Josh snapped. 

“Almost two months.” Sam finally looked up, meeting Josh’s eyes, and immediately looked down again. 

“Goddamnit, Sam,” Josh said, running a hand through his hair. “When will you learn that you can’t just sleep with anyone you goddamn please? A prostitute, a secretary—”

“You,” Donna said pointedly. “And you know I’m not a secretary.”

“But you know how it’ll look, Donna!” Josh yelled. He paced back and forth. Sam stood awkwardly with his hands at his sides as he waited for Josh to realize. _Three_ , he counted in his head. _Two. One._

“What do you mean, ‘me?’” Josh turned towards him. “You _told_ her?”

“Yes, Josh!” Sam said. “I told her. Because people in relationships talk about their exes sometimes. I’m sorry you’ve never reached that comfort level with anyone, but I don’t think that’s my fault. Based on the way that you’ve completely ignored _any_ emotional aspect of my and Donna’s relationship, I can’t say it’s a complete surprise!” Sam was shocked by his own indignation. Donna took his hand, and he realized it was shaking. 

“We’re not just sleeping together,” he said. “We’re dating. We’re partners. And we’re consenting adults, which means you have no control whatsoever over whether we see each other.”

Sam felt Donna squeeze his hand. “As much as you’d like to think so, Josh, you don’t own me,” she said. “Sam and I keep it professional here, and seeing as I don’t technically work for him, I’d request that you keep your nose out of our personal business.” Her voice was cold and measured, and Sam knew she was using courtesy as a weapon. 

And it was working. Josh looked stricken by her cordial tone, and Sam almost felt bad for dating Donna even when he knew Josh was in love with her. Not that bad, though. It wasn’t his fault Josh couldn’t figure that out well enough to ask her to dinner. 

“Fine,” Josh said softly. “You know what? Fine. It’s not my business.” He walked around his desk and sat down behind it. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, looking at Sam. “Now get out of my office.”

They didn’t end up talking about it later. Josh went around in a passive-aggressive trance for a few days, but eventually Leo talked some sense into him and he begrudgingly returned to joking around with Sam and heaping task upon task on Donna. 

The Sam-and-Donna revelation undercut all of their conversations, but they didn’t talk about it. Josh stopped asking about Sam’s sex life and making fun of Donna when she left early for dinners, and when Sam came back in an hour later, he would dive straight into policy talks without acknowledging Sam had ever been gone. 

Sam noticed that Donna was different, now that Josh knew. She started missing dates to work late and stopped eating breakfast with Sam in the mornings, instead going in to work early. 

“It just isn’t as fun anymore,” she said when Sam brought it up one night. She was sitting on his couch, wearing his black sweater, drinking his beer, but she wasn’t his. She never was.

“Relationships don’t have to be fun.”

“Well, then, it’s not as... fulfilling as it used to be. It’s not you, Sam.” He cringed internally at the cliche that came next. “It’s me. I don’t know when everything changed.”

But Sam looked in Donna’s eyes and knew exactly when everything changed, knew that Donna couldn’t love him as long as she was in love with Josh, and it was all fine and sexy and flirty when they were sneaking around but now that Josh knew about it the relationship had lost its sparkle. 

“It’s okay, Donna,” he said. “I understand.” And he did understand. When he thought about it, his relationship with Donna had been one of convenience and companionship more than anything. Maybe the only thing he and Donna ever had in common was being in love with Josh Lyman. 

_v. stepping on the last train, marked me like a bloodstain_

Sam left the White House, and everything shifted. Josh threw himself into his work with a fervor that was unusual, even for him, and Donna hated that she knew why. She heard from the other assistants that Toby was even meaner than usual and C.J. had taken to chewing the ends of her pens to bits.

The senior staff was feeling Sam’s absence painfully. Donna was, too. She missed his friendship, the comfort he provided that no one else could, the way he always knew exactly what to say.

There was a Sam-shaped hole in the West Wing, and Donna noticed it every time Toby couldn’t find a word, every time Josh walked into Sam’s office and looked thrown to see Will. Donna wondered absentmindedly, sometimes, if Josh ever slept with Will. She knew she had considered it, wondered if that would do anything to fill the hole Sam had left, but really she had better things to do than have sex with Will Bailey and moon over a man she had broken up with. 

They missed him. Josh missed him, Donna missed him, even the President missed him. They went to California and when they saw Sam, Josh lit up and slapped him on the back and Donna kissed his cheek and it was like all of the awkwardness from last winter had been erased and it was Sam-and-Josh-and-Donna again, best friends and nothing more, exactly as it should have been. 

They went home and things were better. The Sam-shaped hole had shrunk, a little. November 3rd came and went and Bartlet and Sam both won, and that meant Sam was coming back to Washington. Josh looked so happy on election night, smiling and laughing and emanating this glow that made Donna light up inside. 

God. She really was in love with him. She was in love with him on election night and she was in love with him in New Hampshire and in Gaza and even as she packed up her desk a few months later to work for Russell, she was in love with him, but she didn’t do anything about it. It was probably a lost cause.

_vi. tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy_

When Donna came in, Sam was sitting on the patio of a cafe reading a newspaper with his face on the front cover. 

“You know, I’ve decided this is actually the best thing to have ever happened to me,” he said. He folded the newspaper up to look at Donna. She was looking at him nervously. “Come on. Sit.” She sat. He plopped the folded newspaper on the table. 

“‘Freshman representative outed in homosexual love affair,’” Sam read, using his finger to mark each word in the headline. “I went on three dates with an accountant. Must be a slow news day.”

Donna nodded uneasily. “Well, it is Saturday, so. Must be, yes.”

“So what are they saying about me over at the White House?”

“I stopped working there a month ago,” Donna said. She inched the newspaper towards her without looking at it, watching Sam instead. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, right!” Sam said. “Congratulations, Donna! How are things over with Bingo Bob? Better than with me, I hope.” He gave her what he thought was probably a gratuitous wink. He was trying way too hard to make things normal, but what else could he do? Business continued as usual, even if you just got outed on the front page of the Georgetown Daily.

“He’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, if you’re feeling up to it,” Donna said. “Is this true?” She was pointing to what he could see of the article above the fold.

“Most of it.” Sam shrugged. “Enough to kill my re-election campaign.”

Donna winced. “I figured. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sam said. “It was about time the gay caucus snapped up someone new. Just their bad luck it’ll be me. Besides, legislating isn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be.” It was true. Sam’s year and a half in Congress had been excruciatingly inefficient. And he expected that, he wasn’t a total idiot, but it was more discouraging than he could have ever imagined. 

“Have you thought about coming back to the campaign trail?” Donna said. A waitress came over with two cups of coffee. She looked down at the newspaper, then up to Sam, then back at the newspaper. “Thanks,” Donna said, giving her a tight smile.

Sam took a sip of his coffee. “Who’s asking? I thought this was a friendly breakfast.”

“It is. Just, you know, friendly means something different when you’re campaigning. You know. You’ve been here.”

“Well, I’m not resigning,” he said. “This—” he tapped the newspaper— “isn’t grounds enough to leave office. Why? Does Russell want me?”

“Nothing’s official until he’s got the nomination,” said Donna. “But he’s looking for a communications director.”

“Donna, I’m flattered, but—”

“Ep!” she interrupted him. “It doesn’t have to be on the campaign trail. He’s willing to make you a senior staff offer now.”

Sam took another sip of his coffee and squinted at her. “Isn’t it a little early to be staffing the West Wing?”

“Come on, Sam. Russell’s got the nomination sewn up, and he can beat any Republican once the party is behind him. Will wants you. Russell wants you. I want you. You’re a valuable asset. And after today, you and I both know you’ll be needing a job in a year.”

“Harsh,” Sam said. 

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“A little. But it’s okay. Nothing’s official?”

“Nothing’s official.”

“Call me back if Russell actually wins.”

“So you’ll consider it?” Donna sipped from her mug.

“I’ll consider it.” Sam observed Donna. Her eyes were bright in the sunlight, brighter and happier than he had ever seen them when they were together. 

“So you’re enjoying the new job, I take it?” he asked. 

Donna grinned. “It’s the best. I get to do so much more than I ever did…” She continued talking, and Sam nodded and listened and enjoyed her company. They were so much better like this, as friends, than as any other iteration of themselves. 

“Have you talked to Josh about any of this?” Sam said once Donna had finished telling him about her new job. “You sound really happy. He’ll be glad to hear it.”

She paused, caught off guard. “No. We don’t really talk anymore.”

“Hm,” said Sam. “Too bad. Why not?”

“It’s just—” Donna started. “I dunno. We just don’t.” And for the first time that morning, Donna looked a little mournful. “You win some, you lose some, I guess.”

Later that day, Sam called Josh. “You need to talk to Donna,” he said. 

“Sam? What’re you—why are you calling?” Josh sounded disgruntled, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

“You need to talk to Donna,” he said again. 

“Buddy, I heard about what happened today. Everything alright? You need any damage control?”

“I do have a staff, Josh. My inadvertent homosexual scandal is being handled, so don’t change the subject. Why haven’t you called her?”

“I’m a little busy running the campaign of the next President, Sam!”

“Next president, my ass. He’s got maybe two terms on me. I like the guy, but I think his chances are small enough that you can afford to give Donna a call.”

“He’s got three on you, but—whatever. Sam, I—you just got outed to the nation, and you’re using your time to tell me to call your ex-girlfriend?”

“My thing will blow over,” Sam said. “I’m really not too bothered. Your thing, however—Josh, you cannot mess this up. She is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you were never even together. Can you imagine how good you could be together? As partners?”

Josh sighed. “Sam, you’re talking crazy. The news has gone to your head. She doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“Josh, just trust me on this.” Sam heard Josh sigh again. “No, seriously. Just call her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

There was a long pause. “I’ll consider it.” That was all he needed. Sam hung up.

_vii. knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss, I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs_

Sam asked, and even though Josh would do basically anything that Sam asked, he wouldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t call her. He could barely think about her.

In the wee hours of the night, he wondered where it all went wrong. Well, he didn’t wonder so much as rehash it in his mind. He had taken her for granted. He had treated her as a means to an end, the way he treated everyone around him, and she had left.

Sam left. Mandy left. Amy left. Now Donna had left him, and it was all Josh’s fault. 

He didn’t call her like Sam suggested, but he did reject her resume. Ripping into her after Russell lost the nomination counted as talking, right? 

But then he saw Donna on a TV screen and everything went sideways. The carefully constructed house of cards he had built to hide in came crashing down and he knew that Lou had to hire Donna, because why wouldn’t she? Donna was incredible, and Josh was incredibly stupid to let her pass him by. 

Donna came to work with the senior staff, and Josh didn’t know what to say. They picked back up where they left off, except not really, because it felt like they had broken up from a relationship that never actually happened and then never bothered to talk it out. 

It was fine, though. After a few weeks, the awkwardness was almost gone. It lingered in the room sometimes when they were alone together, pent-up tension and anger and betrayal but mostly awkwardness, but Lou or Otto came by soon enough to diffuse it and bring everything back to normal. 

They worked and they bickered and they didn’t talk about anything that mattered, and Josh was so painfully longing for her that he couldn’t even begin to think about doing what Sam said and talking.

And then they were up in Illinois, Santos was beating Vinick—he was _beating Vinick_ —and Josh wasn’t sure who kissed who but he and Donna were kissing and it wasn’t awkward, wasn’t angry or tense, it was forgiving and lusty and probably something a little bit like loving.

He heard Sam’s voice in his head. _She is the best thing that ever happened to you._ God, she was. She was. 

_viii. knew i’d curse you for the longest time, chasing shadows in the grocery line_

Josh was in California. It was too hot for him there. He never understood the appeal of the West Coast—oceans and sunshine are nice, sure, but a decent slice of pizza on a city street beat it all. 

Josh was in California, and he hadn’t even begun to think of how to define his relationship with Donna. He knew there was no logical reason for her to be in California with him, knew it wasn’t possible, but he kept seeing her in gas stations and hotel lobbies and thought he should really do something before he spontaneously combusted from missing her. 

But Josh didn’t know what to do about Donna, so he harassed Sam at his fancy new law office. He veritably harangued him. Josh was like a dog begging for attention, standing in front of Sam and pleading with him to come work in the White House.

Sam made fun of him and said no, he was happy and getting married to boot, and Josh flew back to Washington. There Donna told him they needed to talk for real this time, and Josh wanted to go to sleep and never wake up after that but instead he called Sam. Sam usually had something good to say about stuff like this. And Josh could get another pitch in, too. 

“Josh. It’s barely been a day.”

“I’m not calling about that,” Josh said irritably. “Well, I am, but first I wanted to ask you about Donna.”

“Good. You could use a kick in the ass on that one,” Sam said. “Before you ask, yes. You should date her.”

“How did you know what I was going to ask?”

“You forget, Josh. Donna and I are very close.” Sam sounded incredibly pleased with himself. 

“And how do you know I should date her?” 

“That woman is the best thing, man. She is the best goddamn thing to ever happen to you. Donna was a great girlfriend to me, but you know why we didn’t work out?”

“Because you’re both insufferable meddlers?”

“Because she was in love with you. And knowing her, she still is.”

Josh sighed. “Don’t fuck this one up, Josh,” Sam said. “You can’t afford to. If there’s one relationship you’ve got to see through—it’s this one. Trust me.”

“Fine! I’ll talk to her.”

“There’s a good man,” Sam said approvingly.

“Now, have you reconsidered?”

“I dunno. It’s just not where I am right now. I like my life here.”

“Bring your fiancée out. Get a breath of fresh Washington air. Make a vacation of it while you learn the ropes.”

“That’s the other thing—we wouldn’t be able to get married if we moved out east.”

“Who the hell are you marrying that they won’t let you marry her here?”

There was an awkward pause. “Josh,” Sam said. “Josh, do you not remember? I’m marrying— I’m marrying Adam Norfolk.”

“Adam Norfolk? Sunrise PAC Adam Norfolk? The world-will-get-swallowed-by-the-sun-in-fifty-years Adam Norfolk?”

“He’s right, you know, but I would focus less on that and more on the fact that if you hire me, your liberal president will have a member of his senior staff who can barely get married in California, much less Washington, D.C. How’s that gonna look for a man preaching progress?”

“You can’t use that to talk me out of hiring you, Sam.” Josh thought Sam was full of shit. How could he not want to come back to this life? “We’ll figure all that out. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can,” Sam said. “I know it’s past 2 where you are, so I’m hanging up now. Call Donna.”

“Fine, but you’ll get another call from me in the—” Josh said. _Click._ “Morning,” he finished lamely.

_ix. knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired, and you’d be standing in my front porch light_

Josh showed up on Donna’s doorstep with a plane ticket and a smile. “Get packed,” he said. “I want to talk.”

When they came home, Sam was there. “Glad you worked it out. Had a feeling you would.” 

Donna hugged him first, rushing over and practically throwing herself over his shoulders. Then Josh put his arms around both of them, his two best friends. He inhaled Donna’s perfume and Sam’s clean soapy scent and smiled. Yes, this was the way things were supposed to be.

_epilogue: and I knew you’d come back to me_

“It’s funny, when you think about it,” Donna said to Josh. “Sam is the reason we’re together.”

“Why is that funny?”

“I dunno,” she said, swirling a glass of champagne. “We’ve both been with him, and now we’re with each other, and he’s the one who got us to do it. It’s kind of funny.”

“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink.” Josh tried to grab her flute, but she maneuvered it away from him. 

Sam strode over to where they were sitting, a round table shoved into a corner far from the dance floor. “Sam,” Donna said. “You look so handsome.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “Listen, I have a gift for you.”

“It’s your wedding,” Josh said. “I thought the gift-giving fell to us.”

“Well, it’s not like you have nothing to celebrate,” Sam said, looking at the diamond on Donna’s ring finger. “It’s nothing. Just something small. Open it later.” And Sam was gone, off to entertain guests and dance with his husband. Donna had a gift bag in her lap with white tissue paper coming out the top.

“Well?” Josh said once Sam was well out of sight. “What could he possibly have for you on his wedding night?”

Donna took the tissue paper out and looked inside the bag. She started giggling, and didn’t stop. 

“What the hell is it?” asked Josh. 

“It’s nothing,” Donna said, still laughing. Her hair fell around her face as she kept looking down into the bag. “It’s just—” she reached in. “Is this yours?” She pulled a Yale sweatshirt out of the bag and held it up. 

“Holy— I didn’t know he had that,” Josh said. He was, quite frankly, dumbstruck. That thing had to be at least thirty years old. 

“How could he have known?” Donna wondered aloud, her eyes still wet with laughter.

“Known what?” 

“I—” Donna let out another giggle. “I gave him his own sweater back. As a wedding present. Along with the crockpot.”

Josh stared at her, openmouthed. “You—why?”

“It just seemed appropriate,” she said. “You know, this is the end of an era. No more flings. We’re all committed now.” She rifled through the bag some more. “Oh, hold on. Here’s a note.” She handed it to Josh. It was small, scrawled in Sam’s messy, angular letters. 

“Dear Donna,” he read. “You and I both know there’s nothing like your partner’s sweater. This is rightfully yours. Love, Sam.

“P.S.: If you could, please return mine so Adam can have it. I have a feeling you will anyway, because that’s the kind of person you are, but just in case.

“P.P.S.: Congratulations to you and Josh!” he finished. “That’s nice.”

Donna took the note back and read it silently to herself. When she looked up, Josh could tell she was teary. 

“This—us—” she said. “It’s thanks to him.”

“We should probably toast him then, huh?” Josh said. He raised his glass slightly, motioning to Donna to do the same. “To Sam. For always bringing people together.”

Donna raised her glass. “To Sam. For making people feel loved.”

**Author's Note:**

> so it seems death by folklore (a series of fics inspired by each song on tswift's latest album) will take longer than I thought. that's okay lol
> 
> this was an experiment in past tense and i didn't care for it but oh well! the relationships were real messy to figure out as well so that was a fun experiment. ALSO gay marriage was legalized in CA in 2008 but I just figured since the show played around w election years and dates I could too :). i had more to say about this (yes i did almost forget to include gaza) but unfortunately it's almost four am so I got nothing (else). 
> 
> talk to me @slightlyraspberry on tumblr or @samseabxrn on twitter and kudos and comment if you liked! thanks for reading!


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